In Two Week's Time
by Shipshipship
Summary: Sherlock is sent to camp for two weeks by Mycroft and isn't happy about it until he meets a boy his age John, a counselor at the camp.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone c: Brand new fanfic wooooo. Credit to** Gracie_x** for the prompt and for being a lovely beta (psst, check out her stories)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Sherlock franchise or any characters

"Mycroft, do I really have to stay here for the next three weeks?" Sherlock groaned.

"It's nice here. You'll get some fresh air. And you know that mum and dad are having issues, and I don't have time to watch over you." Mycroft sighed. "Just behave please. If I get a call saying that you blew something up, I'll send you to boarding school."

"Whatever." Sherlock looked around at the camp, wondering what exactly it could offer him. "I'm the oldest person here." It was true. As he looked around, he realized that most of the campers appeared to be 8-13, which put him at least three years ahead of everyone here.

"No, you aren't. The counselors have to be 18 to work here." Mycroft grinned. "Please just make the best of it, Sherlock. It's only two weeks."

Sherlock chose not to reply. Mycroft sighed again.

"Let's check you in then." Sherlock reluctantly followed his brother, wondering how he could get sent home early.

)

"Bye guys! I'll see you in a couple weeks!" John grinned, excited to be back at camp. This year was going to be especially fun, because he got to be a counselor instead of a camper.

"Bye John! Be safe." His mum yelled.

John rolled his eyes but nodded.

They drove off, leaving John to take in the familiar surroundings. He had been coming to camp for as long as he could remember and he always had to be dragged away at the end of the two weeks. John walked towards the mess hall, where he was checked in, exchanging hellos with people he recognized.

"Hey Michael, I'm here. Which cabin is mine?" Every counselor was assigned a cabin, and that counselor had the kids in that cabin.

"Um, it says here that you're in 7. Go ahead and put your stuff in there, and introduce yourself to the campers." Michael was the head counselor. He'd been coming to the camp for twelve years, 5 as a counselor. He pretty much knew the entire camp back to front.

"Great. Thanks!" John located his cabin, threw his stuff onto the bed marked with his name, and went off to find his campers. All campers were given a wristband with a certain color that correlated with their cabin number. Cabin 7 was green. He quickly located his kids, and played a short introduction game, before taking them back to the cabin to unload their stuff.

"How many of you have been here before?" John asked. Five of the kids raised their hands. "Alright, will you guys lead the other campers to the mess hall and take them to our table? It will have a green sign in front of it."

While his kids were getting seated, he went off in search of Michael so he could get his activities folder. He had just spotted him when he suddenly collided with someone, knocking them both over.

"Oh, sorry! I should have been watching where I was going." John scrambled to his feet. "Let me help you." John extended a hand to the dark haired boy currently on the ground.

Sherlock took it, and John pulled him up.

"Sorry about that." John realized that the boy in front of him was around his age, far too old to be a regular camper. It was after a couple seconds that he realized he was staring, and not saying a word.

"I'll, uh, see you around, alright?" John stammered, feeling silly. Sherlock nodded, and went to find his table.

Michael appeared behind John, laughing. "First day, and already you're getting hurt." John was known for his clumsiness at camp.

"Shove off. Who is that kid?" John asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Uh, Sherlock, I believe. It's his first year here. He's your age." Michael paused. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason. Can I get my activities folder?" John asked, remembering why he had been looking for Michael in the first place.

John was flipping through his folder when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up to see no other than Sherlock staring straight at him. John glanced down, suddenly embarrassed, though he wasn't quite sure why.

)

Sherlock was sitting on the steps outside his cabin trying to make a phone call when the boy he had bumped into earlier came and sat beside him.

"You aren't supposed to have those, you know." John teased.

"What they don't know won't hurt them." Sherlock replied, wondering why the boy was even bothering him.

"I suppose not." John paused. "My name is John, by the way."

"Hello John." Sherlock said, not offering up his own name. Maybe if he was rude to him, John would leave him alone. He really was not in the mood to make friends at the moment. He was currently trying to get a good enough signal to call his parents and complain, and see if they would pick him up.

"Well, it was nice talking, I suppose." John smirked. It had been a fairly one-sided conversation. "Good night Sherlock." Sherlock blinked. He hadn't told John his name, but yet, he had known it, making it obvious that the other man had asked about him.

Sherlock couldn't imagine why someone like John was even trying to be nice to him.

Sherlock sighed, his phone call still not going through. He decided to try again in the morning. He could get through one night in this hellhole, right?

A/N: Wooooo, one chapter down. I hope you like the story so far, and ofc go check out my beta Gracie_x


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I really should be doing homework but who cares. I hope you like this newest chapter and go check out my beta **Gracie_x**

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock or the characters

"Who do you keep trying to call?" John asked, sliding up next to Sherlock.

"My parents. Why do you care? Why are you even talking to me?" Sherlock knew he was being rude but he hadn't gotten much sleep, and everyone here woke up at 7 am. It was honestly inhumane, so he had a right to be snippy.

"It's technically my job." John said with a laugh. Sherlock looked at him blankly. _No humor then_ John thought to himself. "You just don't seem like camp type. I was wondering why you are here."

"My brother is forcing me. I know that must seem very odd to you. Judging by your familiarity with some of the people here and the area, you've been going here six or seven years. I'm guessing the camp helped you through some family tragedy, probably a divorce. You like to come here to escape your family because even though you love them, you are wary about your brother's destructive behavior. Though it is somewhat strange for you to still be living with your family considering you must be 18 to work here." Sherlock mused.

John stared at Sherlock, shocked. Sherlock automatically regretted saying anything. John was a large guy after all, and the only thing Sherlock had over him was height, which wouldn't do him much good.

"That was…" Sherlock cringed. Here came the insults.

"Amazing." John finished. Sherlock blinked.

"Well, that's a first." Sherlock muttered, still bracing himself to be punched or slapped.

"How did you know all that?" John asked, suddenly excited.

"I pay attention, John." Sherlock said dryly.

"That's bloody amazing. I mean, some of it was wrong, but still. You knew all that after one day." John shook his head.

Sherlock froze. "What was wrong?" He asked.

"You were right about the divorce, but it's not my brother who is destructive. It's my sister Harry. And I'm the same age as you, 16. They bent the rules and let me be a counselor because my mum couldn't afford the camp fee without my dad's income."

Sherlock wondered how John knew his age, but didn't ask.

Both men stood awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say. Thankfully, the bell for lunch rang, saving them further embarrassment. "Well, I have to go get my campers together. I'll see you later, Sherlock." John gave him a disarming smile before running off in the direction of the mess hall.

Sherlock was starting to wonder if camp was really going to be that bad after all.

)

"Hey John, can I ask you a huge favor?" Michael said, coming up behind him during dinner.

"Sure, what do you need?" John was always happy to help, especially after Michael had been nice enough to let him be a counselor.

"Andrew is sick and he can't do any activities for the next few days. Would you mind combining your kids with his kids?"

"Yeah, no problem. Which cabin is he?" John asked.

"He is 4."

"Alright, I have swimming tomorrow, so I'll take them all down to the pool." John smiled. Swimming was always his favorite part of the whole camp experience.

"Thank you so much, John! I owe you."

)

Once everyone had finished breakfast, they went off to go to their separate activities. John was slightly nervous. This was his first year as a counselor, and now he had double the kids to watch. He just hoped that the kids from 4 were well-behaved.

Michael had already escorted the kids to the pool for him, because he had forgotten his whistle and sunscreen in his cabin. When he got there, he quickly looked over the new kids. He paused when he got to a familiar dark haired boy. John grinned at Sherlock, fighting the urge to wave at him.

Sherlock sighed. Of course their stand in counselor was John. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with the overly happy man.

"Alright, first things first. How many of you don't know how to swim?" John asked, scanning the group. A couple of boys timidly raised their hands.

"Okay, I will be teaching you some basics today, and by the end of the week, you will be able to swim." John grinned. "Everyone else can go ahead and jump in, but stay close so that I can watch you." And with that, the rest of the boys ran towards the water, laughing and pushing each other. John laughed.

He noticed Sherlock still standing with the group of boys who didn't know how to swim. "Can you swim, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock blinked. "Yes, I can."

John waited. Sherlock didn't move.

"Why aren't you swimming?" John asked, feeling kind of like he was talking to a child.

"I don't want to." Sherlock deadpanned.

John sighed. "You have to."

"Why?"

"Because that's what the activity for today is." John fought his instinct to add _and because I said so._ He somehow thought that wouldn't go over well with the other man.

"Fine." Sherlock walked to the water at a leisurely pace, obviously not in any hurry. John silently vowed to get him out of his perpetual bad mood and to get him to have some damn fun.

"Okay, let's learn how to swim." John said, smiling down at the expectant boys.

)

"JOHN." One of the kids yelled.

John snapped to attention, motioning for the boys he was teaching to swim to hold onto the wall before swimming over the other end of the pool.

He immediately saw the problem. Sherlock was submerged and not coming up.

He quickly relayed all of the saving techniques and put them in motion. He dragged Sherlock to the edge of the pool, pushing him onto the tile before pulling himself out. John put his ear to Sherlock's mouth. _He's not breathing._ John tried to stay calm, knowing that panicking would not save Sherlock. He went through the steps up of CPR, starting to lose hope after the third attempt when Sherlock finally began breathing. He began violently coughing up water.

John helped the other man until he was done. "I thought you could swim." John said, glad that Sherlock was okay, but angry that he had lied.

"I thought it looked easy enough." Sherlock sputtered. John couldn't help but smile.

"You can sit out today, but tomorrow, I'm going to teach you how to swim." John grinned.

Sherlock sighed. He dried off with a towel.

"You can change out of your swim trunks if you want, since you won't have to swim today." John suddenly laughed. "At least now I know I can actually do CPR."

Sherlock blinked. John had given him CPR? He flushed at the thought, though he didn't know why.

A/N: Oh silly Sherlock c: Hope you guys like the newest chapter of my newest fic and review and stuff c:


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello guys c: Here's the newest update, I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock or any of its characters

Sherlock had been in the infirmary for nearly three hours and his patience was wearing thin. However, no matter how many times he told the nurse he was fine, she continued to ignore him and just tapped away at her computer. He was about to settle in for a nap when the door swung open and John strode in.

Sherlock sat up immediately, and tried desperately to tame his hair. It hadn't dried well after his incident in the pool.

John pulled a chair up to sit beside Sherlock's cot. "How are you doing?" John asked, his eyes full of worry.

"I'm fine," Sherlock assured him. "Between you and me, I'm not sure why she has been keeping me here so long. I'm starting to think she's not even a real nurse." He said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

John laughed. "Maybe she just enjoys your bubbly presence." He joked.

Sherlock glared at him.

"Well, I'm glad she's keeping you here. That means she's being thorough, and that's good because I'd be upset if anything happened to you."

That comment hung in the air as Sherlock tried to figure out why John cared so much about him, practically a complete stranger.

There was a prolonged awkward pause as Sherlock studied John and John fidgeted under his gaze. John coughed. "Well, um, I guess I better get back to my campers." He said, standing up.

"Wait." Sherlock called. John stopped, and turned back to him. "What am I supposed to doing during swimming time tomorrow?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" John's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, I can't swim, so what do I do during the time?" Sherlock hoped he wasn't placed in some lame activity, like arts and crafts. He hated glue and glitter. It was much too messy. He wondered if there was possibly a silent reading time. Now, _that_, he could do.

"Oh, I'm going to be teaching you how to swim." John said.

"Wh-what?"

"You'll be able to swim by the end of the week, and that's a promise." John winked at Sherlock and left, leaving the conversation closed to any argument.

Sherlock frowned, his stomach doing flips, though he wasn't sure if it was from the idea of swimming after nearly drowning today or from the fact that John had winked at him.

)

"This is bloody stupid. Why do I need to know how to swim?" Sherlock asked, shivering in the cold water.

"Because what if someday, you fall off a boat and you need to save yourself. Being able to swim is an important survival skill."John grinned.

"I hate boats. They make me sea sick."

"You still have to learn how to swim."

Sherlock sighed. "Fine."

"First, you need to put these on your arms." John held up a pair arm floaties. Sherlock eyed them with disbelief.

"I'll look like an idiot." He said.

"You'll look like an idiot when you tell people that you never learned how to swim." John pointed out.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but obeyed and slipped the floaties onto his arms. "Now what?"

"Now, position yourself so that you are lying on your belly in the water, like this." John demonstrated. Sherlock did as John said. John placed one hand on the middle of Sherlock's back, and the other on his belly. Sherlock's stomach muscles clenched in response, and Sherlock fought the urge to slap John's hands away. "Now, you need to work on kick your feet. Kick your feet so they are just above the water and then lower them again."

"Okay, good, now we are going to work on the different strokes."

They worked on swimming for the next hour and Sherlock could almost swim across the width of the pool without stopping for breath.

"You are a natural." John said while they were drying off. "After a little bit of teaching, you got it really quick." John grinned, proud of the impressive progress they had made in just one day.

"I'm sure I'll never use it though." Sherlock said, though he had actually enjoyed swimming. He enjoyed the feeling of being weightless underwater and feeling as if you could do anything. He wondered if his parents would consider putting in a pool. They would probably like the idea, as it would get him outside and away from his experiments. They were always afraid he was going to blow something up.

"How come you never learned to swim?" John asked suddenly, interrupting Sherlock's thoughts.

Sherlock considered the question for a moment before answering. "I don't really know. I never showed much interest in sports or anything to do with the outdoors when I was a child, so my parents probably figured it was a lost cause. My brother probably never learned either. Mycroft is much too fat to swim." Sherlock laughed at the thought of his overweight brother trying to do a lap in the pool.

"You have a brother?" John asked. John had just assumed Sherlock was an only child. He had the attitude of one. Plus, how would someone like Sherlock be like around family? Somehow, John thought that they weren't close like most siblings.

"Yes, and he is incredibly pretentious and irritating. He thinks that being the older brother gives him power that isn't truly his and he never stops bossing me around." Sherlock paused. Why was he telling John all this?

"Plus his name is Mycroft." John said.

Sherlock snorted. "My parents like odd names."

John nodded.

Sherlock's stomach growled. "Man, I'm bloody hungry." Sherlock usually didn't have much of an appetite, especially for camp food, but today he was famished.

"Well, swimming does that to you." John grinned.

"Maybe Mycroft does swim then." Sherlock laughed, causing John to grin even wider.

A/N: I hope you liked it! Review and all that stuff. Until next time c:


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I've dedicated my life to writing about teenage boys falling in love and people still think I'm normal. Sorry this is shorter than usual, half of this chapter disappeared into computer land and I have no idea what I wrote.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or the characters

John literally could not stop grinning. He felt like an idiot but he just could not stop smiling. He had actually succeeded in making Sherlock laugh today, and he felt incredible. He felt as if he was really making this whole experience better for the other man, and a glance across the mess hall revealed that Sherlock still had the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Even having to clean up the mess hall couldn't ruin his mood.

Halfway through washing the dishes, Megan, another counselor, came up beside him and started to take over the drying part of the job. He thanked her and started to ask her about how her year had been since they had last seen each other.

Megan gave quick answers, and steered the subject away from herself. "So that Sherlock kid... That one you saved from drowning. How old is he?"

"He's 16." John thought it was a weird thing for her to bring up, but brushed it off as sheer curiosity.

"And he's one of your campers, right?"

"No, he's actually Sean's but I was covering for him." John smiled, thinking that would be the end of the conversation.

"Do you think he'd like to come to a party tomorrow night? With me?" Megan looked up hopefully.

"W-wh-what?" John asked, stunned that anybody would want to take Sherlock out. Especially to a party of all places. It was obvious that Megan had never talked to Sherlock.

"Oh, you can come too if you'd like!" Megan smiled. "So can you ask him if he'll go?"

"Uh, sure, I guess." John said, his head still spinning.

"Thanks, John! You are the best!" Megan gave John a small hug before running off, leaving John with the rest of the dishes and some odd thoughts.

)

John had been teaching Sherlock how to swim for about an hour before he finally brought up the subject of the party.

"Hey would you like to go a party tonight with me and some of the other counselors?" John asked, leaving out the part about Megan. He thought that Sherlock would probably say no if he knew it was a setup. At least this way, Megan could experience Sherlock's rude behavior for herself and walk away from the situation far less hurt.

"You want me to go to a party?" Sherlock wondered if John had actually lost his mind.

"Yeah, it could be fun." John shrugged. "Plus it could get you away from the camp for a while and into the real world."

Sherlock considered it for a moment. "Okay, I'll go."

John blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, John, do I need to repeat myself?"

"Well, I guess I'll come get you at 8." John said.

Sherlock nodded, though the sentence sounded a lot like the things he had heard in movies and books when people took other people out on dates. Was this a date?

Sherlock frowned, not sure what to think.


End file.
